


Flakypie's One Shot Collection.

by flakypie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lucifer (TV), Magisterium Series - Holly Black & Cassandra Clare, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Oneshot, i can't tag, suggest in the comments, this is gonna be great, you choose the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flakypie/pseuds/flakypie
Summary: Scrollers and followers, commenters and kudosers, today, I present to you a medium to present your darkest desires. YOU, dear deader, can request any one shot, be it fluffy, smutty, or angsty. I have listed a few fandoms here, but you can see if I know any others by checking in the comments. If I have listed a fandom, it does not mean that I have created a chapter on that fandom. It means I 100% can do one shots on it. Please, give me any and all suggestions/prompts/idgafks for some one shots!
Comments: 23
Kudos: 17





	1. This Chapter is not a Chapter

You. Yes, you there. I see you reading this chapter. You are going to comment. I can tell. And you, other person, you will not comment. Either way, you are appreciated.

But only one of these people will have control over the content that gets produced. And that's this lovely human over here. -gestures to the human-

Let's give them a round of applause, shall we? Yes, I know, it feels weird clapping at a screen. Just trust me, will you? Thank you! Except you, why aren't you clapping? I wish I could point on this thing, because you're all going to get very confused. Ok, you can stop clapping now. Most of you have already stopped, but for some reason a few of you was still clapping and it is getting very annoying. Anyway, I hope you got your applause, unnamed human. It's very hard to send audio files through this thing. 

Anyway, I have summoned you here to make an announcement. For the 99 percent of you who read the summary, this will be obvious. Actually, to anyone literate, this will be obvious. I'M STARTING A BOOK OF ONE SHOTS! YAY! I didn't want to start a chapter without a prompt, so I'm just going on a rant. There will be no writing of fan fiction in this chapter, so you can, uh, scroll to the next chapter (if one exists yet). For those of you where no chapter exists yet, there's one simple thing you can do to change that- comment. Yes, you too have the magical power of a working keyboard! Or if you don't, I suggest you look into that. 

Best wishes,

Flakypie

"flaky's in the name" -official slogan 2020


	2. MPHFPC: Jacob x Horace: If you die tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested by :/.  
> Jacob is about to plunge headfirst into a dangerous situation, Horace has a bad dream, and *cough cough* events ensue. Set in Jacob's house. So if that's a spoiler, I'm sorry. Also, I couldn't find a single fic on this ship, so this is a really obscure ship. Or maybe I'm just an idiot. Anyway, hopefully I didn't fuck up too much lol.  
> (smut happens btw)
> 
> Rant alert:  
> Also, people, my people, please comment. The fact that you are reading this alone makes me feel so great, to know that people actually enjoy the things I write. And it's an incredible feeling to imagine all the people that have clicked the kudos button and said thanks. I don't want to force you to comment, but YOU have the power to write the story. You can provide as much detail as you want. I just want to hear your thoughts. And I also want to thank you, the reader, for clicking on this in the first place. That in and of itself is amazing to me. Also I did so much historic underwear research it's almost funny. 
> 
> Anyway, not really sure how to write this, but I'm gonna try it, and hope I don't fail miserably. So we'll see how that goes. Enjoy the overly fast paced monster I have created. Forgive me.  
> 

Horace has always been scared of the unknown. And the known, too. Horace has been scared of what will happen to his friends, what will happen to him. And lately, more and more, what will happen to Jacob. So tonight was the last straw. Jacob couldn't keep doing this, keep walking out and leaving him behind and almost getting himself killed. Every time he left, it crushed a bit of his soul. Every time he left, Horace resolved to say the thing he'd wanted to say for such a long time that it had become a part of him. So this time, when he saw Jacob's death for what must have been the 3rd time that week, he resolved to do something about it. 

It was dark, and he tiptoed over the bodies in the crowded living room to go up the staircase. He shivered at the prospect of telling Jacob not just what he dreamt, but everything. Today, Horace would try to be something that he undoubtedly wasn't. He would try to be brave. Finally, he arrived at the door, and straightened the cuffs of his pyjamas to make sure they were even. He knocked quietly at the door, half hoping no one would answer. Then, the door swung open, revealing what would be the sloppiest room he had ever seen, if he hadn't seen Enoch's dingy little basement back in the loop. 

"Are you ok, Horace?"

"I-I... I had a bad dream."

"Was it prophetic?"

"I think so, but I don't know. Look, you can't save everyone, Jacob. And I'm tired of you pretending that you can." Horace bit his lip and looked up at his friend, half hoping Jacob would make him stop. But he just stood there, quiet.

"I don't- I don't know if you have some sort of infatuation with heroics or some extreme moral compass but sometimes staying home is the best thing for everyone. I don't want to lose you, Jacob. I don't want you to leave to save a stranger and get yourself killed. Or one of our friends.... and I know my dreams aren't always right, but there will always be a peculiar that needs help. And one day, there will be one that you can't save. And I... I need you, ok?" Horace barely noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks, barely noticed anything except the look Jacob was giving him.

"Ok."

"Pardon?"

Except Jacob never repeated that word, because he leaned in and their lips met. Horace wouldn't have admitted it, but he had imagined this many, many times. And none of his wildest fantasies could compare to this. And then, the moment was over, and Horace wished it wasn't.

"I... didn't know you felt that way" Horace said, face flushed in the darkness.

"Look, I'm sorry, let's just forget this eve-" Click. The door closed shut, and Horace stood on his tiptoes to peck Jacob on the cheek. And then they were kissing again, except this time was different. Horace didn't even realize they had fallen onto the tangle of sheets Jacob called a bed until Jacob stopped to lift his t-shirt over his head. Horace nervously fumbled with the buttons on his pyjama top until Jacob finally assisted him, tearing one of the buttons.

"I'll have to mend that, you know." Horace muttered into Jacob's neck.

"That's if you can find it in the first place." Jacob started grinding on Horace's thigh, biting his lip to try and stay quiet, which only really half worked.

Jacob put his mouth to Horace's neck, leaving damp marks he had no idea how he was going to hide. Horace was now growing increasingly aware of his erection rubbing against Jacob's, who was only wearing boxers. Horace made a mental note to complain about the state of Jacob's sleepwear at a later date. 

Jacob leaned onto his side, pulling down Horace's pyjama bottoms.

"I didn't peg you for a briefs guy."

"Well, they were getting popular around the early forties and..." This time Horace was pretty sure Jacob kissed him just to shut him up, but he didn't care. 

Then, Jacob's hand wrapped around Horace's penis, making Horace moan in surprise. Jacob started moving faster and faster, Horace arching his back into Jacob's hand as the older boy thrust between Horace's thighs. Finally, Horace came, and soon after both boys were laying in the unkempt bed, side by side, discarded clothes in the laundry. Tomorrow, there would be new challenges, but they would deal with those when they got there.

And that night, Horace had no dreams at all.


	3. Ron X Hermione: Do you want to build a pillow fort?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Hermione build a pillow fort, and fight in the resulting fortress. Fluff. I don't know if this is good, but I tried. So, uh, give me a little credit. Requested by gay.

It was cold, even through the walls. Everything seemed to have some sort of charm in the Weasley family, from the pots and pans to the clock on the wall. However, the cold still penetrated through the walls, and so Ron decided that it was the perfect time to build a pillow fort. Hermione agreed, though she was a bit reluctant to admit it. So they went around the house collecting pillows and blankets, nicked two chairs from the kitchen when Ms. Weasley wasn't looking, and after a good half hour of construction, they had assembled a low, sloping fortress between Ron's bed and the two chairs. Hermione insisted on bringing a book, but Ron, not being particularly fond of reading, convinced her to play Wizard's chess instead. Hermione thought the game was violent, but she also had the bad habit of winning every game that they played.

"Oh, come on now Hermione!"

"What is it now, Ron?"

"You've beaten me! Again!"

"Yes, I suppose I have."

"Well that's not fair, is it?"

"What, me being good at the game?"

"You _winning_ the game. _Three times_!"

"I really don't see what the problem is, Ron."

"The problem", Ron protested, "Is that I haven't won once in three games!"

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I'm just better at this than you?"

And with that, Ron pulled a pillow out from under him and batted Hermione on the shoulder.

"Ron!"

"Yes?"

"You've hit me!"

"With a pillow."

"You've still hit me!" Hermione said, getting her own weapon and bludgeoning Ron across the head.

"Oi!"

"What?" Hermione said, smirking.

"Eat feathers, Granger!" Ron said, brandishing the pillow as if it were a weapon of mass destruction.

"Not if you eat them first, Weasley!"

They warred for several minutes until the blanket above them suddenly fell down on top of them, making them both collapse in riots of laughter.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Did you actually remember to weigh down the blanket?"

"Are you any good at chess?"

"Hey!"

"Oh, come on, Ron. Your mum's got lunch ready."

"Chicken and potatoes?" Ron said, not having eaten since breakfast.

"Why don't we go find out?"


	4. Horace X Hugh: In my arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a platonic one shot, suggested by Oof, where Hugh comforts Horace because Horace generally just sees some pretty fucked up shit. Set before the first book, and Horace and Hugh are roommates. Very, very short. But uh, I like to think of myself as a succinct person.

Horace woke up to the crisp September air, like every morning. And like a good deal of mornings, he woke up screaming. The details were so blurry, all he could make out was that there had been blood. And a hollow, the very thought of which put Horace into a cold sweat. But a hollow had never got into the loop. It took a moment for Horace to realize he was shaking. And then his name, in the darkness. Soft, so as not to wake Victor, even though Horace was pretty sure nothing short of an air raid siren could wake Victor.

"Horace, are you ok?" Hugh said. Horace couldn't force his lips to move, couldn't even move his limbs. This sometimes happened, when the nightmares got too bad. Horace had a very good memory, but somehow the worst of his dreams always eluded him. Horace wasn't exactly sure if that was good or not. Hugh crept out of bed and sat next to Horace.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk about it." And he did, the words just choked in his throat. And he just leaned into Hugh and cried. And Hugh sat there, understanding as ever, a faint buzzing coming from his stomach. It annoyed Horace at first, but after a while, it became soothing. Whenever Horace had a nightmare, Hugh would be there, patient. Words didn't need to be said, they just hung in the air like a warm blanket. You are safe. It's ok.

"Hollow." Horace choked out between sobs.

"What?" Hugh said, mildly startled.

"There was a Hollow, I think. And there was blood. I think someone was hurt, or dead."

"That sounds dangerous. Maybe we should tell Ms. P what you dreamt."

"She has enough to worry about. Besides, a hollow could never get inside the loop."

"You're right. And if there was, Ms. P could take care of it."

So there they sat, the prophet and the bee boy, silent in the cool blue dimness of the early morning. And even though the very thought of that dream still terrified him to his core, he was all right. Hugh always made things alright.


	5. Black lives matter- (this chapter is not a chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know that I am not and never will be a social media influencer, but the more people that see this, the better.   
> I want to help, and I figure this is in your face enough to get some people to see it, but you can always just click next chapter. Please don't just click next chapter.

We are in the middle of a revolution. Maybe it will have ended at this point, maybe there will finally have been a conclusion. Either way, this point will never be invalidated. You matter. No matter who you are or what you do, your actions make a difference in the world. There has never and will never be again another person like you. So the more we start appreciating people for who they really are and not who we think they are or assume they are, the more we grow as a species. 

I want to take time to remind you that the color of your skin, the place you come from, your weight, your looks, none of that matters in the long term. There will always be bad people in the world, there will always be people who tear each other down to build themselves up. You might even be one of those people, sitting in the back with a guilty look on your face. It's not ok. But the quicker people stop feeling guilty for what they did in the past and help people now, in the present, the closer we come to a perfect world. This message is already being echoed around the world, you will have heard this a thousand times until it feels like that is all the world has become. But that's because it's important. That's because before this, a lot of people brushed racism off as a rare thing that couldn't happen on such magnitude that it has been exposed to have. Whoever you are, this affects you, for better or for worse. 

Thank you, for taking the time to read this. So please, whoever you are, donate. Or share the hashtag. It doesn't matter if it's just a dollar. Because just one dollar by enough people can change the world. Just one retweet from enough people can make a difference. It has. We are living in a revolution, something that will affect so many people for so long. Be part of that change. We are caught in the eye of a hurricane, looking out on the storm from our glass houses, scared to step out into the fray for fear of getting cut down. But if you do get cut down, if you feel like you are done with the world and its inhabitants, whenever you feel sad, there are people that will build you up. Whether that's from the archive, from Reddit, from YouTube, friends or family, there are people that will support you and only ask that you support them in return. If we don't act, if we don't help make the world a better place in any way we can, chances are, we'll regret it. So make change. #blacklivesmatter


	7. Rufus parents Call: Ok means that I'm Not Ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter deals with some dark themes, like depression and self harm. 
> 
> Right. Because I can't write anything where Call isn't a depressed ball of angst and despair. Basically, Rufus confronts Call about his little 'bad habit'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has literally been a million years. I've kinda abandoned all of my fics except one due to being incredibly busy. So this chapter is a guilt chapter and also b/c someone requested Magisterium so here we are.

"Call." Master Rufus's voice reverberated across the office, and if Call was being honest kind of hurting his ears. 

"Yup." Call said, sliding down as far as he could in the chair.

"What is this?" Rufus said, dropping a bag of razor blades on the table.

"I shave?" Rufus gave him the slight eyebrow raise that meant 'you're lying through your teeth and I god-damn know it'

"Tamara found these in your room last night after she saw a bloodstain in the bathroom and figured out neither you nor Aaron had been in any fights recently." Rufus looked at Call with a mixture of pity and concern.

"I can definitely explain this to you in a way that makes sense." Rufus waited, an indiscernible expression on his face.

"You see, I love to lunch. But Tamara, being the neat freak that she is, makes me eat messy foods in the tub. So It's ketchup?"

"You eat meals in the refectory, Call."

"Yes."

"Are you really trying to tell me you smuggled hot dogs and ketchup here to the Magisterium so frequently Tamara developed the asinine notion you needed to eat in the tub?" Rufus said in a neutral tone.

"Yup."

"I'm afraid, Mr. Hunt, we will have to refer this to your father."

"Wait, no!" Rufus looked at him with mild surprise.

"He- he doesn't know I started again. Please."

"Look, Call. I don't know what you're going through right now. I don't pretend to. But this- this is not ok. We need to get you help, one way or another."

"Look. I'll talk to some magical shrink if you want me to, just- don't tell my dad. Better yet- don't tell anyone."

"And you'll stop the-"

"Yes."

"For good."

"Yes."

"You know you can always talk to me, Call. Always."

"Ok."


End file.
